"All the Gear, No Idea": Why Consistency Beats Perfection in Founder Fitness

They call me "Cuddles" at Aussie Rules football. Not because I'm affectionate, but because I once tried to tackle someone so badly that I ended up hugging them instead. My girlfriend was watching. My mates were watching. The nickname stuck.

That pretty much sums up my relationship with fitness: enthusiastic, imperfect, occasionally embarrassing, but absolutely necessary for surviving twenty years of building companies.

The Truth About Founder Fitness

I've run marathons in New York and Chicago. I've cycled the Three Lakes Challenge. I've taught hundreds of BodyPump classes. But I'm not naturally athletic. Never have been.

At Dulwich College, I played hockey and tennis for the school. I was centre-back in hockey, which is the position where you put someone who follows instructions well and works hard but isn't particularly talented. I served a purpose, and that's been my sporting approach ever since.

What I lacked in talent, I made up for in showing up. I became captain of hockey at Dulwich College, Exeter University, and Spencer Hockey Club. Not because I was the best player, but because I turned up every Saturday, regardless of weather, and gave what I had.

The Team Sport Years

Team sports shaped how I think about business more than any business book. The banter and sportsmanship, the tactics and graft, the wins and losses. It all translates directly to startup life.

Hockey taught me you don't need to be the star to be valuable. Sometimes the team needs someone who'll do the unglamorous defensive work, follow the plan, and support the talented players. That's exactly how I approached building ScreenCloud. Enable the stars, do the dirty work, keep showing up.

Rugby and Aussie Rules taught me something else entirely: know your limits. I'm physically big and strong, but I'm not aggressive. After dislocating my shoulder in my fourth Aussie Rules match, I accepted what I'd always known. I'm not hard enough for contact sports. That's fine. Know your lane.

RCL: Ripped Club London (Yes, Really)

I joined RCL (Ripped Club London) in 2016, during ScreenCloud's growth phase. The name is ridiculous. I didn't choose it. But these Bath University friends became my fitness anchor for years.

Every Tuesday at 7pm in Wandsworth. Not football, despite what people assume. Circuits, runs, creative fitness challenges. During the brutal ScreenCloud years, Tuesday nights were sacred. Non-negotiable. We were just a bunch of guys in our thirties pretending the terrible club name was ironic, sweating through burpees in a South London park.

The real value wasn't the fitness. It was the consistency. A decade later, we're still organising the Christmas meet up. We don't train together anymore because of kids, moves, life. But that foundation's still there.

The Three Lakes Challenge: Leadership Through Suffering

In 2018, I organised RCL's Three Lakes Challenge. We cycled across and between Windermere, Loch Lomond, and Loch Ness in two days. We raised over £20,000 for charity.

I was woefully undertrained for cycling. The other guys were proper cyclists, whilst I just drafted behind them, trying not to die. The physical challenge was tough, but the real test was the cold and exhaustion. We finished in Wales, in morning fog, barely able to feel my hands.

The lesson here was that you don't need to be the best at everything. Sometimes you just need to keep pedalling while better cyclists pull you along.

The Fitness Gaps

Let's be honest about the gaps. When ScreenCloud was at its most intense, my fitness disappeared. The time I needed exercise most (peak stress, no sleep, constant pressure) was exactly when I stopped completely.

This is the founder's problem: we know exercise helps with stress, sleep, and decision-making, but when we need it most, it's the first thing we drop. I've been there multiple times. No judgement if you're there now.

The pattern was always the same. Work becomes everything, gym membership becomes a monthly donation to Virgin Active, weight creeps up, stress builds, until something breaks and forces a reset.

The Current Reality

Post-Bodypump retirement, my fitness looks different. No more 6am classes, but I'm still in the gym. I take classes as a participant now. It's weird being anonymous again after seven years at the front.

The real hero of my current routine is Fergus, my Vizslador (Vizsla-Labrador cross). He demands 2-3 hour hikes every weekend through the Surrey Hills. Dogs don't care about your startup stress or board meetings. They need their walk.

We escape to the Isle of Skye or Devon for proper hiking holidays. There's something about Scottish mountains or Devonshire coastlines that puts Silicon Valley nonsense into perspective.

The Non-Negotiables

After twenty years of building companies whilst trying to stay fit, here's what I know:

Consistency beats intensity: Better to do something moderate regularly than kill yourself occasionally.

Find what you actually enjoy: I've run marathons. Hated every mile. But put me in a group fitness class or on a hockey pitch, and time flies. Don't do what you think you should do; do what you'll actually do.

"All the gear, no idea": This is the perfect description of gym culture. You don't need the perfect workout clothes, optimal protein shakes, or a £200 monthly gym membership. You just need to show up.

Exercise is thinking time: When you're properly exhausting yourself, you can't think about cap tables or customer churn. That mental break is as valuable as the physical benefits.

What I Won't Tell You

I won't tell you to wake up at 4:30am for a workout. I won't prescribe a specific routine. I won't pretend I've cracked the code on work-fitness balance.

What I will tell you is this: in twenty years of building companies, the periods where I maintained some kind of fitness routine (however imperfect) were always the periods where I made better decisions, handled stress better, and led better.

The periods where I let it go completely were always followed by some kind of crash that forced a reset.

The Future

Maybe I'll take up golf. It's the sport of retired executives. I played as a teenager and could probably remember how to hold a club. But honestly? I miss team sports. I miss Saturday morning hockey matches, being part of something bigger than myself.

For now, it's gym, classes, dog walks, and the occasional charity challenge with the RCL boys. You don't need to be good at fitness. You don't need the perfect routine. You definitely don't need to become a Bodypump instructor (though I recommend it).

You just need something. Anything. That you'll actually do.

Consistently.

Even if you end up with a nickname like "Cuddles."